- © 2007 Canadian Medical Association or its licensors
ANATOMIA Cindy Stelmackowich, Patrick Mikhail Gallery, Ottawa, Ont., Oct. 3–28, 2007
The human body has been arguably the defining subject for artists over the millennia; beautiful, infinitely variable and evocative, the body never fails to deliver aesthetically. Yet few artists have dared to peel back the skin, to find the beauty that literally lies within. And those who have done so were usually dubbed medical illustrators, not creative artists.
But Cindy Stelmackowich not only finds the art, she adds her vision to re-make a number of these already beautiful 19th-century anatomical illustrations into post post-modern art works. The result is her new exhibition: ANATOMIA or some Physiological Descriptions Illustrative of Clinical Dissections of the Human Body with Inquiries and Observations of Disaster thereupon. Anatomia is the Greek word for separating, cutting up and cutting open, while the longish subtitle is derivative of the titles of the anatomic atlases that form the basis for this exhibit.
During the Ottawa artist and art historian's research toward a doctorate degree in the history and theory of art, Stelmackowich toured some of the world's greatest medical libraries (most notably the Osler History of Medicine Library Collection at McGill University in Montréal), marvelling in particular at the beautifully rendered, poetic 19th-century anatomic atlases that were the first serious attempt to map the human body. Although empirically correct, these lithographic illustrations borrowed much from the classic Greek ideal of the perfect body; there is no sign of fat or blood, the undissected parts — mostly heads and hands — are beautifully drawn, and the figures turned just so to reveal what lies beneath. Obviously the subjects were dead — draping cloths and pins and other tools of the trade are sometimes evident — yet in these renderings the figures are animated by a turn of the head, a blush on the cheeks, a gesture. And despite the obvious violence being wrought on them, they are paradoxically peaceful looking, perhaps an effort to belie then-common assumptions about grave robbing and the dark side of the burgeoning subspecialty of pathology.
Rather than purely objective and empirical renderings, Stelmackowich views these medical mannequins as symbolic and allegorical, and uses sophisticated digital imaging to heighten this impression by adding desires, speculations, fantasies and fears to the illustrations. Stelmackowich's long abiding interest in the juxtaposition of art and science, in particular medical science, is evident in many of her art works; she has exhibited since 1997 with 6 major solo shows. This exhibit comprises 2 parts: The Disaster Series (8 works) and Blinded by Science (7 works).
In The Disaster Series (2007), Stelmackowich selected anatomic illustrations and added, within the revealed interiors, colourized lithograph and engraved scenes of disasters — such as fires, a volcanic eruption and shipwrecks — culled from 19th-century publications including the Illustrated London News, Canadian Illustrated News and The Graphic. Thus we have the a depiction of the great fire at Montréal (July 9, 1852) burning in the chest of a young man, and the burning of the Houses of Assembly, also in Montréal (Apr. 25, 1849), ablaze in a cranium.
These speak to the fear and phobias (the psychological and physical disasters) that are imminent or hidden but lie within the seemingly peaceful, perfect anatomic portrayals. They are evocative of disease as an internal battle, a disaster even, and they also mirror the violence inherent to the process of dissection.
Stelmackowich further integrates these aspects by borrowing the captions used in the publications to name the art works, and by colourizing aspects of lymphatic and other systems as they enter into the news images, so that the body's routes and passages seemingly feed the disaster images. Thus the disaster is linked organically to the body; one cannot function without the other. The result is at once aesthetically pleasant and intellectually intriguing.
In Blinded by Science (2006–2007), Stelmackowich juxtaposes images from the anatomic atlases with photographs of brightly hued glassware, such as bowls, vases and even an enlarged toothpick holder. The bodies seem to spill into these fragile vessels, evoking the idea of delicacy and transparency, thus mirroring the fragility of the body itself. The images are labelled by letter only, to spell out RGBCMYK, the colour codes of digital imaging. “G” depicts the airways seemingly emptying into a green bowl, as if it could contain life's breath. “B” features a blue vase that contains a side view of a torso, creating an illusion of a body under water, and obscuring while, paradoxically, revealing the torso beneath. Although these pieces are not as nuanced as the Disaster series, they are visual gems.
Together, these digital images spin a narrative of fears and fragility, and offer comment on the limitations of even the most beautifully done anatomic renderings and, arguably, modern imaging techniques, as they attempt to truly reveal what lies within the human body.